The Crepes of Wrath
by rocky
Summary: Mrs. Weasley finally has had enough of Fred and George’s pranks. She has a few tricks up her sleeves, too…


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A/N: Yes, I should be working on _Journey to Reality_. But this annoying little plot rodent entered my head several days ago, and has been gnawing at my brain ever since. This is what happens when you succumb to these invisible denizens…let this be a warning to you all…

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Disclaimer: JKR's characters, my plot. You thought differently?

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The Crepes of Wrath

Life was never exactly what one would call peaceful at the Burrow. Peaceful was close to impossible, what with seven children (six of them boys), several owls, and one young-at-heart husband. Mrs. Weasley had learned long ago to cherish the days that involved only two of three quarrels and one minor explosion. 

Today was one of those days. The children still attending Hogwarts were home for the summer holidays, and her three eldest sons had relented to her wishes and were home as well. Despite the chaos that often ensued, Mrs. Weasley loved having all her children at home. There she could keep a closer eye on them.

Since it was a fine summer evening, most of the family members were outside. Mrs. Weasley didn't particularly care what they were doing, as long as it didn't involve any illegal curses. Arthur and Charlie were having an animated discussion at the kitchen table while Mrs. Weasley prepared a picnic dinner. After much grumbling, Bill and Percy had consented to set up some tables outside. Mrs. Weasley smiled to herself. She always got her way with her children. They knew what happened if she didn't. 

Suddenly, one of Mrs. Weasley's mother-senses kicked in. She had heard something outside. Something she did not like…

"Grab it, Ron!"

"I've got it!—oops, well, I thought I did."

"You'd better catch it, George! It's heading towards the—"

"We know where it's heading, Ginny. Stop squawking at us and help us catch the damn thing!" 

Mrs. Weasley wiped her floury hands on her apron. It would be in her best interests, she decided, to see what was happening out there.

She had just reached the open front door when something went whizzing past her into the house, followed closely by a very flushed Fred and George. The twins stopped dead in their tracks at the site of their mother, and Ron, who had been following them closely, bumped right into them. 

Mrs. Weasley glared at her children. "What," she whispered, "was that?"

The three brothers glanced uneasily at each other before Fred turned to his mother and said, "Garden gnome, Mum. We'll just catch him for you."

'Catching him' would probably entail tearing half the house down, Mrs. Weasley decided. With a half-hearted sigh, she reached for her wand sitting on the counter. "I'll 'catch him' myself, thank you." Ignoring the twin's feeble protests, she pointed her wand at the gnome, who was currently generating havoc in the kitchen area. She was about to cast a Freezing Charm on the misshapen creature when her wand emitted a loud squeak. Looking down, she found a rubber mouse in her hand.

Mrs. Weasley whipped around to face her two sons, who were both staring guiltily at her. "WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT LEAVING THESE THINGS LIEING AROUND THE HOUSE!" she roared, waving the rubber mouse under their noses. 

"Um, Mum, about the gnome, you might want to—"

"The gnome can wait, George! How many _times_—"

"Mum, really, we think it'd be best if—"

"FRED! Stop interrupting me! You two, I've had about enough of—"

A loud explosion behind Mrs. Weasley caused her to spin around once again to face the kitchen. Black soot covered all the cabinets, and there was a small crater next to the kitchen sink. The gnome, now entirely black and cursing loudly, sped out of the open door, clutching its backside. 

Mrs. Weasley slowly turned to face her children. Fred and George had mirror images of horror upon their faces. Through clenched teeth, Mrs. Weasley whispered, "What…did…you…do?" 

After several minutes of mumbled excuses, Mrs. Weasley finally extracted the story from her erring sons. It seemed that the garden gnomes had been a little more adventurous than usual today, and Fred and George had an "improved" version of Filibuster's Wet-Start Fireworks to test out. To the twins' amazement, the garden gnome they managed to catch did not like having miniature fireworks tied to its back. After some punching and biting, it had escaped their grasp. Fred and George had then employed the help of Ron and Ginny to catch the creature, but this task turned out to be easier said than done. Before they knew it, the gnome had raced into the house and climbed into the sink full of water. According to Fred and George, the test had been a success. The "improved" fireworks were supposed to create only a minor explosion, but with lots of soot. The soot, they explained, was for "added effect". And, they concluded, it wouldn't have gone off in the house "if you hadn't insisted on getting in the way." 

The twins' short speech didn't seem to pacify Mrs. Weasley very much. She stood in front of them, quivering with rage. Very slowly, she pointed towards the stairs, and opened her mouth to speak. Her sons caught on quickly.

"Right, Mum, go to our rooms, no dinner," said Fred.

"Reflect on what we've done wrong—"

"Maybe solve world hunger while we're at it."

Before Mrs. Weasley could say a word, the identical boys had shot past her and raced upstairs.

*

Mrs. Weasley was still fuming. Dinner had done nothing to calm her anger. The house was quiet now. Her children were in bed, and the ghoul had finally given up on ratting the pipes for the night. She poured herself a cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen table with a deep sigh.

"Up a little late, aren't we?"

Mrs. Weasley turned to see her husband standing in the doorway, smiling at her. She frowned at him in return. "Arthur, what are you doing up? You have to work tomorrow!"

Her husband shrugged and sat down next to her. "Came looking for you." He tried and failed to hide a smile. "I see you got the kitchen cleaned up."

Mrs. Weasley threw her arms in the air. "Those two! I don't know what we're going to do with them, Arthur."

Arthur chuckled. "Now, now, Molly. If I remember correctly, you were quite the terror at Hogwarts yourself when we went there."

"That's besides the point, Arthur." Unwillingly, she gave a small smile. "Besides, Professor Rookwood deserved all that he got."

"Yes, I know," said Arthur, laughing quietly. "Well, you're right about one thing; I do have to work tomorrow." He kissed the top of her head. "Go to bed soon, won't you?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded and patted his hand. "I'll just clean up my tea, dear." Arthur nodded and went up to bed.

Mrs. Weasley stood and began washing her teacup. Her husband had unknowingly given her an idea. She had to fight fire with fire. She smiled to herself. Those twins had no idea what they were in for.

*

The morning sun shone brightly through the kitchen windows as Fred cautiously poked his head around the stairs. "No sign of her," he whispered back to George, and the two of them crept into the kitchen.

While their mother had only said they had to stay up in their rooms that _night_ (well, she hadn't exactly said it, but they had gotten the picture quite clearly), their punishments usually lasted longer than that. However, the fact remained that they were hungry. And as George had pointed out, "She can't starve us, that's homicide." So it had been the general consensus to sneak downstairs and grab some breakfast. 

George quietly tiptoed over to one of the kitchen cabinets. "Hm," he whispered, looking to the spot where the gnome had, er, gone off, "she fixed the hole." 

"George!" Fred sounded quite excited. "Look!"

George turned around and saw what Fred was so excited about. A gorgeous breakfast feast lay on the kitchen table. George felt his mouth begin to water. "She must've made it for the others." He glanced around and looked at his twin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "No one around."

Fred smiled broadly. "Exactly!" The twins sat down in front of the magnificent fare. 

"Crepes!" said Fred. "Excellent!"

"Orange juice, my dear brother?"

"Why of course, George old boy."

Soon the twins had a good sized meal on the plates in front of them. Fred sighed contently, picking up his knife and fork. "Brother," he paused dramatically, "let us eat."

"Amen to that," George said, chuckling. Just then a scream ripped through the air.

George jumped, spilling orange juice all over the floor. "Fred! What was that?"

Fred looked horrified. "All I did was cut into my crepe!" George looked at his brother's crepe, which was now spilling its strawberry innards all over the table.

"So!" Fred and George both jumped this time and turned to face George's plate. George's crepe was standing up, pointing Fred's strawberry covered knife at the two boys. "So!" it squeaked again. "Murderers, I say! Won't stand for it, no we won't!" The crepe turned to face the pile of crepes behind him. "Will we boys?" Fred and George watched in horror as the rest of the crepes sprang up, spraying strawberries everywhere. "That's the spirit!" shouted the first crepe. "Give it to 'em, then!" 

"What the—ouch!" One of the crepes had thrown a well-aimed sausage link right at Fred's nose. The others were following suite, picking up whatever breakfast items they could find and slinging them at the shocked twins.

"Fred! What's goin' on?" George asked his twin, a bit of bacon stuck in his hair.

"I dun—ouch!" replied Fred as a piece of toast hit him. "Let's get outta here!" The twins pushed back their chairs and, holding up their hands to deflect flying sausages, made a break for their bedroom.

Mrs. Weasley stood behind the doorway laughing silently. Oh, yes. She still had a few tricks up her sleeve. 

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